


Trust

by Mez10000



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Episode: s2e17 The Honourable Ones, Established Relationship, Kallus backstory, Kallus-centric, M/M, Mild Innuendo, Post S4, canon typical implied violence, canon-typical angst, general Imperial flawed thinking, spoilers for all of Rebels, time skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 11:17:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14768541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mez10000/pseuds/Mez10000
Summary: Kallus and the theme of trust over the years.





	Trust

Crash-landing on one of Geonosis’ icy moons with the enemy was not part of Kallus’ plan. Neither was his broken leg, rendering him close to helpless with said enemy. 

Much to his surprise, the Lasat did not kill him. If their positions had been reversed, Kallus was not sure he would have made the same choice.

“If anyone finds us, it’ll be the Empire,” Kallus lied.

He knew protocol well enough to know they would not waste time and manpower on searching for a single ISB agent. Especially when his location was unknown and odds were high he would not have survived the crash, let alone the hostile environment and the conflict with the rebel. 

He knew that the Empire would simply declare him missing in action after the mandatory twenty eight rotation waiting period and carry on exactly as before. Anything more would be a waste of resources.

The Lasat seemed convinced the rebels would find them. He had rigged the escape pod’s transponder to send a frequency anyone could pick up and as far as he was concerned, it was just a matter of time.

Kallus doubted that. If the Empire could not spare resources on a single agent, the haphazardly supplied Rebels could ill afford to waste theirs on a single member of their crew. They would have the added hazard of getting a rescue ship into Imperial-controlled space; a risk they simply could not take for one person. If they were to fail, they would lose a ship, supplies, weapons, and potentially compromise the entire Rebellion. 

He would not argue the point, not beyond a few half-hearted mutters. If the Lasat believed help was forthcoming, he would be in a better mood, and this uneasy truce would not last if he angered the Lasat.

Of course, somewhere along the way, sometime between having his bo-rifle confiscated and huddling close for warmth, the Lasat officially became Zeb and their shaky truce had become something more complicated and undefined. He had known Zeb’s name for a long time now - he was not a high ranking Agent for nothing - but the permission to use it, and the new weight it took on in his mind, amongst the questions he had only ever fleetingly thought of, then carefully never disturbed, never investigated…all of that was new and terrifying.

Kallus was genuinely surprised when the Ghost honed in on the makeshift signal and rescued Zeb. To risk a ship, the crew, the supplies, all for one Rebel? It was absurd in the extreme. Kallus could not understand it, but it seemed Zeb’s unshakable conviction that his friends would find him was right.

Kallus refused Zeb’s offer to join him, despite the assurance that he would be treated ‘fairly’ - whatever that meant to the Rebellion. He believed that Zeb himself would try to prevent any maltreatment of Kallus - he had proven his code of honour throughout the misadventure - but whether he had the means to stop any other Rebels from treating him as they saw fit… No, it was better to freeze or starve on this icy rock than die at the hands of a Rebel execution squad, after being interrogated for what information the Rebellion could glean from him.

Surprisingly, Kallus did not die. A self-proclaimed merchant ship investigated the transponder’s signal first, and if Kallus found it odd that a ‘merchant’ ship was in the sector, he graciously decided not to say a word about it. He also kept quiet about the almost perfectly disguised contraband in the cargo bay. Smugglers operated in every corner of the galaxy, and some had dealings with certain officers of the Empire - strictly off the books, of course. He negotiated his own return to the Empire, limping back onboard the star destroyer only a few thousand credits lighter. 

Once in the privacy of his own quarters, his thoughts consumed him. He had barely been acknowledged upon his return. That was not unusual, it was simply protocol, it had always been like this. Sterile, impersonal, cold. Kallus had appreciated that, once. No paper-thin attempts at small talk, to make a connection where none existed, to curry favour amongst peers. It made it easier for an ISB agent to keep colleagues at arm’s length - all the better to watch for disloyalty with a cool, detached eye, free from bias.

It was only now that he realised what Zeb had - what all the Rebels had - that he did not. 

Trust. Unwavering, unshakable faith in the people around them, despite the odds. Even when common sense should dictate otherwise. And this was wholly alien to Kallus.

* * *

Trust was a weakness to a prospective ISB agent. When your entire role revolved around rooting out traitors, misguided trust was a blindfold that prevented you from seeing evidence. Luckily enough, that was never a problem for Alexsandr Kallus, the promising new face in ISB’s investigations unit. Kallus had learnt earlier than most not to trust anyone. 

The Empire’s personnel records held few facts about him; twenty-seven years old, born and raised in Coruscant, graduated top of his class at the Academy. His parents were on record with a little footnote marking that he had formally disowned his family a few years ago, but with none of the salient details.

Kallus himself would not talk about the events that lead him to disown his family for decades to come. There was simply no one to confide in, and no reason to do so - the past was unchangeable now, talking about it did nothing except open old wounds.

When his parents were arrested on a minor misdemeanour, Kallus had been informed. At the time, he believed it was a mere courtesy, in hindsight, it had been a blatant test of his loyalties. Either way, his response would be the same - they were not his family and he had the paperwork to prove it. He never found out - never wanted to find out - what had become of them after their arrest. The loyal Imperial Agent Kallus believed they would be put to trial and a fitting punishment. Not that it mattered in any case. They had been out of his life for good before their arrest. Getting apprehended changed nothing.

After all, his parents had been the first people to teach him that trust was a luxury he could not afford. 

* * *

When Kallus finally learned to trust, it was Zeb. It felt inevitable that it would be Zeb, like gravity pulling his orbit closer and closer until they reached an equilibrium. Zeb had already opened Kallus’ eyes to so much of his flawed thinking, what was one more concept to reveal?

* * *

It was always bitterly cold on Hoth. While Kallus could see the strategic value of locating the Rebellion’s base on such a hostile environment, his old wounds were protesting the ice with perpetual dull aches, his long-broken and improperly healed leg presenting the most complaints. It seemed just his luck that the Rebellion would find the one place colder than Bahryn to set up base. Then again, perhaps it was fitting that fate would always find himself and Zeb drawn to such places. Perhaps it was some quirk of the Force.  

The one advantage of the cold was that it provided an iron-clad excuse to share a bed. Preserving body heat was just a sensible idea in such conditions. Not that anyone had bought that excuse at surface level, not even Chopper, who had trundled off with a binary cackle, followed by Zeb’s half-hearted threats until he was out of sight.

So here they were, Kallus pressed up against every inch of Zeb, sighing happily when Zeb’s arms curled around him a little tighter. Neither was asleep, though Kallus thought he would not be far off if they kept up this content warm silence. Zeb’s shorter fur was velvet-soft against Kallus’ face, and he could not help nuzzling into the warmth of Zeb’s chest.

“Still awake, Kal?”

“No,” Kallus murmured.

The chest underneath him jolted in an amused snort.

“That’s too bad, I had a thought. But if you’re asleep…”

Kallus was curious - they had always had interesting conversations when neither of them were quite exhausted enough to sleep immediately, though with the work setting up base, that had been a rarity lately. He lifted his head to look Zeb in the eye.

Zeb was gazing at him with such a fond expression that it knocked Kallus off-kilter. These looks were reserved for private moments, and each one made Kallus’ stomach swoop. He still could not quite believe that anyone, much less Zeb, could look at him with such naked affection. As though he was glad to have Kallus here.

They had spoken about it often - Kallus voicing his doubts that he was worthy of such affection. That no matter what he did, he could never be worthy of it. Zeb had made his position perfectly clear, but Kallus could not let go of his guilt. Forgiveness was something outside of his capacity to earn, with all the dark marks of his past against him. The day he failed to feel guilt about his past would be the day he became a true monster, he felt.

The compromise was simple. Zeb would love him regardless - not that he could stop if he wanted to - and Kallus would work towards being that man he felt could be worthy of Zeb’s love. Even if it could never truly happen. He could work towards a better future, not to absolve his own guilt, but simply because it was the right thing to do.

“Evidently I’m awake,” Kallus finally replied. He was trying for dry sarcasm, but his voice sounded sleep-thick even to his own ears.

“Either that or you’re more talented than I know.”

“By now I think you’ve had a more than adequate demonstration of my talents.”

Zeb jolted. “Karabast, Kal, how do you make everything sound filthy?”

The honest answer was that, on occasion, it had been a useful asset to gain information. But bringing up the past always took the conversation in a dark direction and neither of them wanted to retread that ground, not tonight.

“Talent,” Kallus answered.

Zeb chuckled, Kallus feeling it more than hearing it.

“What was your thought?” Kallus prodded.

“Oh, right. Yeah, I was just wondering why Chopper seems to like you so much. Little rust bucket doesn’t like anyone - except Hera.”

That was not quite true - since little Jacen’s arrival, the astromech had been a devoted defender of him, offering an electrical shock to anyone who got too close without Hera’s prior approval - and quite a few to those she approved anyway, just to keep them on their toes.

Kallus smiled. “The first thing I ever said about Chopper was - inadvertently - a compliment. Since then, he’s chosen to believe I am sensible and have good taste.”

“That trash can is right on one of those things…you do have good taste,” Zeb shot back. “You picked yourself the best looking rebel to shack up with, after all.”

Kallus chuckled at Zeb’s shamelessness. “I certainly did,” Kallus replied in a low purr.

“There you go again with making everything sound filthy. You’re making it awful hard to remember why we have the ‘no ice planets’ rule.”

The rule was simple enough - no activities that involved exposing extremities to the hostile temperatures for any length of time.

“Frostbite. Frostbite is the reason we have that rule, Zeb.”

Zeb pouted, but there was no real force behind it - even his fur would not protect against the cold for long.

Kallus laid his head back on Zeb’s chest. “I always did like droids,” he offered, as way of changing the topic.

Zeb made a little questioning rumble. “Why?”

Kallus had to think for a moment before he had an answer. “They’re simple to understand. People aren’t. You can rely on a droid always following its programming. Droids don’t say one thing and do another.”

“Are you sure you’ve met Chop?”

Kallus laughed at that. “True, General Syndulla does seem to somehow have the only droid in the galaxy capable of lying through his circuits on his own initiative. But he’s a unique case.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, Kallus weighing up whether he should say any more. He traced the stripes on Zeb’s arms idly with his fingers as he thought it through. It would mean talking about the past, which went against every instinct he had, but since officially joining the rebellion he had been challenging all his old habits. 

“ _’Entirely too fond of droids’_ ,” Kallus muttered.

“Huh?”

“One of my school reports. When I was…much younger.”

Kallus knew that if he looked up, he would see Zeb’s ears swivelled forwards in rapt curiosity. He had never spoken about his life before the Empire to Zeb - or to anyone else, for that matter. Kallus did not look up. It was easier to get the words out that way.

“At the time, I didn’t understand why that was such a bad thing. My parents cautioned me against getting too close to my classmates in case they started asking awkward questions or in case I accidentally let anything slip-”

Zeb’s hand found Kallus’, squeezing gently. “Kal, you don’t need to tell me this. It was a stupid question.”

Kallus squeezed back. “No, I want to tell someone. I want to tell you.”

Zeb would understand; he knew what this meant to Kallus. How much trust he was being given by those words.

“Then, you’re gonna need to back up a bit. What kind of secrets were your parents so worried about?”

“They were Separatist sympathizers. Even before the term Separatist had been coined, they were syphoning funds towards the Banking Clan. My father had friends in high places, they convinced him - no, he decided - to invest his money in their schemes.” 

Zeb sounded confused. “So you couldn’t make friends?”

“Younglings are curious. They ask questions about everything. They certainly couldn’t ever be invited into our home in case they found something my parents would have preferred to remain hidden. Friendships were…discouraged.”

Zeb made a small aborted noise, as though he wanted to say something then thought better of it. Kallus continued, the words clipped and tone forcibly even.

“I was practically raised by our household protocol droid. I certainly saw more of him than I did my own parents. I suppose even outside the house, droids were safer company than people.”

Zeb growled, low and full of threat. It said something of Kallus’ ease with Zeb that he didn’t startle at the noise. A few years ago, he would have assumed it was a threat aimed at him. Now, he knew better.

“I’m alright, Zeb,” Kallus murmured. “It was a long time ago. They’re likely dead by now.”

“Likely?”

“I formally disowned them at the official onset of the Clone Wars. I couldn’t…I refused to take their side. When the Empire was established, they were arrested. I have no idea what happened to them after that, but…”

Kallus did not need to explain any further. They both knew all too well that the outcome for Imperial prisoners was never pleasant. The silence said everything that needed saying.

“You’ve got a family now, Kal,” Zeb said quietly. “We might not be exactly normal, but you’re a part of it, whether you like it or not.”

Kallus wondered what his parents would make of that. Their adult son being adopted by his Lasat partner, a Twi’lek pilot, a Mandalorian artist, a missing Jedi, a semi-retired Clone captain and their homicidal droid. They would be scandalized. The more pertinent question would be which part they would disapprove of the most.

“It’s perfect.” Kallus lifted his head to finally look Zeb in the eye. “It’s an honour to be able to call you family.”

Kallus knew Zeb would understand the weight of the words left unsaid. He was thankful that he had not succeeded in destroying them back when he still a loyal ISB agent. That Zeb had taken a chance on him back on Bahryn. That they had both survived this long, despite the sheer odds stacked against them. That Zeb loved him, despite everything.

Zeb smiled. “Even if we have a habit of dragging you out to ice planets?”

“I’d gladly follow you anywhere.”

They settled into the comfortable silence. Kallus trusted Zeb with his past. For that matter, he trusted Zeb with his present and future, too. He simply trusted, for the first time; unwavering, unshakable trust in Zeb - in his entire new family. It was still new and often terrifying and against all common sense, but Kallus was quickly learning.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, a big thanks to Ally for beta reading and Star Wars nerdery and generally being amazing.


End file.
